


Indefinite Truth

by stellarstatelogic



Series: Forerunner Chronicles: Focuslight Revelation [8]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarstatelogic/pseuds/stellarstatelogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of an old ghost found and remained hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indefinite Truth

> / Account Codexed by VVSR-3537-Focuslight Oraculi \\\\\  
>  VERBATIM — / [Record] 474.393.516 — [Restricted] Exclusive Access \  
>  /---------------------------------------///

 

The quarantine vessels have always felt frigid by their nature. They were a world banished from luster, of time contained in stagnancy, and the lives within were kept in eternal dormancy. The Warriors have kept an array of these ships, scattered across all Themas with specific containments and chambers, for those awaiting their trial or have deemed unworthy of the Cryptum's sealing. The situation at that time required me to act as a substitute of the late-Lifeshaper. Per my request for convenience, a particular [prison-ship] has been assigned to me as a base of investigation, presented without as a vessel that contained those who were deemed defiling to the virtues of the Mantle. I have been accompanied my first-born for my mission, at the time a [fledgling] to _the Protector of the Ecumene_ as one of her operatives. Decades have past and our effort has led us to the objective which we endeared ourselves to seek. 

We've passed through the dark corridor of the ship stretched in great length. The [dungeon] where we have housed the subject of our retrieval was located at its end. In the White Confinement lit by light and no shadow prevailed, we met the captive who has finally become within his full-awoken state. He has been stripped of his armor and neural interface crystal as a symbol of relieving him from his Rate and identity -- a treatment of absolute humiliation. I have brought with me a piece of simple robe woven by basic fabric. This [gift], I have offered to him, knowing it may be rejected with the most possible fashion as his way to express detest. 

"Lifeworker," growled the captive as the walls of light then promptly devoured his rage into echoless silence -- as silent as the robe when it has hit the white floor. "The Warriors then have humiliated me into such state, and now you dare to come. Are you not here to mock me with your cowardice?" 

By his accusation delivered, I have then removed my helmet to face him in bareness of my identity. My faith beckoned for a slight possibility of him able to recognize my essence by mere visual. He fixated his bright, golden irises towards my gazes; a brief moment of silence that felt longer than its duration. I placed my index and middle fingers upon the crystal set on my forehead, then moved it towards my lips. The old gesture beckoned for his attention further -- of what I speak would represent relative-truth. "Apologies, venerable one," I responded in modest tone. "But this is the only way, when all the other options may conjure a greater risk to you." 

He shook his head in neither affirmation nor disapproval; "How long has it been?" 

"One million, approximately -- in Maethrillian Years." 

He let out a long, heavy sigh. I saw his shoulders slumped and -- as if intended in grace, bent his pale waist down to reach for the robe on the floor and quietly sheathed his bare form into it. 

"The last time I have meddled within the Living time, we still measured our era in the name of Ghibalb." He muttered. 

"Condolences." 

"Ah... but by the [sensation] of this regalia, I would assume you to be the one who has liberated me from my stasis." 

"I am." 

"Your decency is acknowledged, Lifeworker. The knowledge you hold deemed useful at last." His attention then turned from my face to my first-born's and studied it. "And this agent is of your flesh and blood." 

"He heeds the call from the Rate of his father's." 

"Now they formally permit the Vow of Unbending Union made between ones out of their own Rates?" 

"Neither," I shook my head briefly. "The circumstance was necessary for it to be. Regardless, it was done out of our own choices." 

"As it always would have been. Necessity." His voice spoke of forlornness. "Just like how you would have found my existence necessary for your gain." 

"Aya……, sincere apologies." 

"You serve the Warriors?" 

"The Union made between my husband and I has remained untainted by the conditions of servitude." I affirmed -- perhaps in defense. 

"As you would say, Lifeworker." 

"She has done it for the Lifeworker Rate, and for all of us," said my son, who has finally broken his silence. I have noticed his undertone in bitterness; the Lifeworker blood within him has often prompt mockery from his colleagues. 

Then I saw the old Forerunner's lips curved upwards into an expression as primitive as it would be uncanny. A grin. "Your son takes little of sarcasm;" he rubbed his chin as he mused towards my first-born. "Worry not, young Warrior; as your Rate has always lack relative subtlety, a blunt answer I would give. Alas, I recognize your mother -- and perhaps, I would revere her more than you would ever be, merely out of the Rate which she has chosen to take."

I bowed. "So be the words from your grace, venerable one." 

"Mother." 

I heard the vexation woven beneath his tone. "My son, please, brace in temperance." I gestured an open palm lifted towards my son to beckon calmness from his within and turned my attention towards our captive. He raised a brow, perhaps out of bafflement. The air chilled, words intended to be spoken fell into silence. I waited. 

"Lifeworker, now -- truth; how exactly were you able to find me?" asked the captive. 

"From the old records salvaged deep from within the Warrior’s Archive." I replied adherently. 

"Lies." His gaze remained unobstructed. 

"It becomes inevitable when I have found you between the words I have read." I continued along with my story. 

"And such words contradicts your own;" I saw how his golden eyes lit up in keenness, like bright, dauntless solar flare, kindred to his own knowledge. "The Warriors are pawns of the Domain, _Its_ limbs right and left, hands open and close. _It_ would never make _itself_ known. _Its_ memories defile truth. Nothing from _It_  is definite. _It_ would never have led you into what you seek. _It_ would never dare."

It was then I gave my son a soft nod on the head as a request to give us the space we need. He left in obedience, and I saw the captive's face turned pale and felt remorseful of having to invoke such expression from him. His willful soul is but his own dilemma, a captive from his personal knowledge. He knew his own worth. 

"There is still truth. True-truth. It has led me to you." I attempted to console him. 

He but shook his head in denial, more so – despair. "We’ve lost everything.” 

“Not all.” I reaffirmed in soft whispers, of words echoed throughout our karmic incantations. “ _Old friend_. Not all.” 

“Friend." he repeated and gazed towards me as if he would have never expected such audacity. The air stressed, then deflated within moments. "I suspected, I denied, I feared -- those are soon to be naught, but one last push." responded the captive finally with an inquiry, albeit his reluctance in meeting my face with his own. "What is your name, Lifeworker?"

"Silent-Mist-of-Eternal-Memories." 

He paused. His expression showed pain -- as if he was clambering himself to his own revelation. "The [Ariola]," he let the words out in a quiet, arduous fashion. Yet I could hear a sense of reverence from his voice, an old sentiment too archaic for me to be indulged to. 

I nodded and reached for his shoulders; he felt frail, almost collapsing. It beckoned my further pity. "You've had a record to _our_ names, Lorekeeper." I implicated. 

But the old Forerunner’s face has already shifted into a multitude of [colors], he became lost within his own thoughts and soft mumble recounted the days future past, exclusive to his own perception. "Who would be my successor, Lorekeeper?" I reiterated my inquiries, out of imminent curiosity and perhaps, selfish hope in desire to avoid my own destined obligation. 

"None. The line of succession **ends** with you." He answered morbidly, then became lost in his own ponder once again. "It has become clear now -- the Living Time has permitted your search. Thus here I am, found, and remained hidden." 

I nodded. "I apologize, venerable one." 

The captive reached for my hands and weighted them upon his grayer ones. They felt leathery and cool to the touch, much cooler than my own. "I am but glad, my Lady." he said, and I noticed how his gaze has turned softer and out of focus, as if he was addressing to someone beyond my physical presence. "You have had plans, and your dare has taken you afar. This old physiques of mine will soon deem useless and troublesome in your campaign in times to come." 

"My condolences." 

"Ah. Pardoned......" he said, and I have once again felt the forlornness from within him. "You would be the only one who knew me as you would have had. I ask for nothing more -- perhaps this is what my [destiny] has implied; I was enraged, ah, if only I could have foreseen. You have rekindled hope." 

"I try." 

"What shall you shape me into, Silent-Mist?" 

" _Indefinite Truth_." 

He let out a grimace almost as youthful and visionary as if he would be looking at a kindred friend. His old, frail grip felt ever surer, of bittersweet burden and his faith to his old name in accordance.


End file.
